


Metamorphosis

by OpenHeart_WickedMind



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types, Hannibal Lecter Tetralogy - Thomas Harris
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bedelia/wine, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt, Hannigram - Freeform, M/M, Murder Husbands, POV Multiple, before season 3, what happens after mizumono
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-06 01:23:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4202631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpenHeart_WickedMind/pseuds/OpenHeart_WickedMind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will Graham wakes up in the hospital with a scar on his stomach and regret in his gut. </p><p>"He needed someone immune to the poison in his veins. But the only person who even stood a chance would rather push his hands through the scar in his abdomen and rip it open then let Will back into their life." </p><p>The events after Mizumono as seen through multiple character's eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Metamorphosis

**Author's Note:**

> Self beta'ed - all errors you see are my design. 
> 
> Dedicated to all of the amazing Fannibals out there. You are seriously the kindest most talented bunch I've ever met. I'm glad that crazy cannibal brought us all to the dinner table.
> 
> I hope this Hannigram fic helps sooth the ache of the cancellation, even if it's just for a little while. 
> 
> Fannibals never say die!!

There was one case very early in Will Graham's career focusing on a series of murders where women had been mutilated. Each body, if you could call what the killer had left a body, spoke to Will with clarity. Hatred in the places of the cuts, envy from the parts that were removed, and disgust from the location where the body was found. Eventually they’d found the culprit embedded deep within a religious cult. Will had sat across from him in the interrogation room and asked how he’d gotten so far from the boy who’d graduated from his University with honors.

_ “This was in me the whole time. I just decided to set myself free.” _

Those ended up being his last words. He had chewed his own tongue off while waiting to be processed and quietly bled to death in his cell. Will observed as his mind's eye projected the man’s final moments on the ceiling above his head. The prisoner lay on the floor, bubbles forming from the blood and saliva flowing out of his mouth and puddling around his head. His lips moved like a fish out of water and Will focused on the words the man was mouthing.

_ “Free. I’m free....” _

Will closed his eyes for a moment, allowing reality to seep back into his consciousness. When his eyes opened they focused on the monitor next to him showing his vital signs. The events leading to this moment passed through his mind with every beep of the machine. Everyone around him had suspected what he was capable of.  He’d known as well but thought he could stave it off with lectures and caring for his pack of strays. The truth was he never had a choice. By rebelling and shielding himself away the dark flesh of his inner self had strained against his skin. All it took was one small push for all that ugliness to break through. The thrill of pulling Randall Teir’s skin around the skull of a cave bear was engraved in his DNA. Denying who he was put the bodies of everyone he’d cared about on the butcher block of someone with far less of a conscious than him. Yet as much as Will tried to blame Hannibal he knew he was also to blame. If he’d given in to Hannibal’s proposal and left that night after the lamb how many would’ve been saved? The only things he knew Hannibal would kill for was inexcusable rudeness or someone who  posed a threat to his lifestyle. How was he to know that his victims didn’t have darker secrets not found in the neatly spaced reports in the FBI files? Just like Randall.

Will laughed at the childish rationalizations going through his head and was repaid with pain tearing across his abdomen. He grunted and put a hand to the thick gauze on his stomach.

This inner monologue had been a constant soundtrack in his mind since he’d woken up a week ago. Facts seemed to turn to smoke in his hands and he couldn’t come to any solid conclusions about his actions, or Hannibal’s. His mind could only grasp one thought, everyone he touched was too weak to be near him. The darkness inside of him infected the lives of those around him, even those he tried so hard to protect.

_ “This was who I was the whole time…” _

Staying away from people wasn’t an option, Jack’s efforts to push him into the field had shown him he couldn’t hide from his gift. He needed someone immune to the poison in his veins. But the only person who even stood a chance would rather push his hands through the scar in his abdomen and rip it open then let Will back into their life.

_ "I let you know me, see me..." _

Will closed his eyes and bit down on his tongue hard enough to draw blood.

##

It's said that your life flashes before your eyes when you die.

Bedelia Du Maurier sees her childhood reflected on the surface of white wine and tries to steady her hand while she takes a sip. She thinks about what Hannibal just told her between bites of dinner and knows the grave implications it has for her.

"So, Will Graham survived." She says putting down the wine glass and looking directly at Hannibal. She tries to register any emotion that passes through his mind as she repeats his words. If there is one, it’s buried too deep beneath the calm sea of insanity for her to see it. "I take it that was not your intention."

"Will has always been stronger than people give him credit for. I never doubted him."

"He will come after you."

"He might."

"Or will you go after him?"

This prompted Hannibal to put his fork down and look at Bedelia across the dining room table. "I think there is enough to occupy us here for the time being, don't you?"

Drop the subject. Bedelia got the message loud and clear. But she knew the truth. Those two men were sealed together by fate. Either Will was coming to kill Hannibal or he was coming to join him. Either way she wouldn’t survive the outcome, of that she was certain.

##     

"How much money do you need?" Margot clicked the pen in her hand and pushed some of her father’s old ledgers off to the side of the large desk so she could face her guest in an uncluttered state.

Will Graham sat across from her in a high back leather chair. Something seemed different about him. He had the same LL Bean adorable sense of style but it didn’t seem to fit him anymore. She put the pen to her lips and studied him further. The change was barely perceptible but living with her brother had made her acutely aware of shifts in personality. Underestimating them use to put her in danger - use to. She had Will to thank partially for the past tense which is why she’d agreed when he’d called on the phone yesterday requesting a meeting.

His steady hand pushed a piece of paper to her across the desk.

Margot took the paper and looked at the number he’d scrawled on it. As soon as she heard that Will had survived she’d known what he would do as soon as he was given a clear bill of health. “Cash, I’m assuming?”

Will nodded and pantomimed a convincing smile. “If you can.”

She knew who Will was going after but she wondered what he would do when he stood toe to toe with the man who was one of the reasons for holding her father’s company in the palm of her hand. However, he was also somewhat responsible for the permanent empty place between her hips so she wasn’t committed to an outcome either way. The only thing she cared about was not getting caught in the middle.

“Once you find him. What do you intend to do?"

Will's expression didn't change. He wasn't surprised by her assumption and she was secretly pleased. She always felt they had a tenuous respect for one another, like wounded soldiers piled in the back of a truck leaving the battle. They looked at each other with the calm eyes of someone who had seen the worst that humanity had to offer and survived.

“You know I could offer more help than money. My father's connections in Europe are still strong..."

"I know where he is."

Of course he did. He'd probably planning this over the past year. "I can get you the cash tomorrow."

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell Alana." Will stood and Margot led him through the grand hallways of the Verger estate towards the front door.

Alana, the most unexpected thing to come out of her entanglement with Lecter. Right now she was at physical therapy, still working to overcome the injuries she’d sustained more than a year ago. Later Margot would make them tea and they would lean against each other on a couch in the library cuddled under a blanket. Alana would read and try to let the pain from therapy subside and Margot would tend to business on her laptop. Alana gave her a kind of peace she didn’t think she’d know in this life. She knew if Alana even had an inkling of what they were talking about here she would leave. "I don't plan on telling anyone."

She opened the front door and Will walked out. He turned on the second step and looked up at her. "Alana told me about her plans to have a child once she recovers enough. I'm very happy for you both."

"Thank you." They had talked about the possibility of Will being a part of the child's life. But the darkness that cast over his eyes as he looked at Margot told her wherever he was going, he wasn't coming back. She took a step out into the humid July air and extended her hand.

"Goodbye Will."

He took her hand in both of his and gave her the first genuine smile of his visit. "Goodbye Margot."

##

The bureau gave Jack Crawford the option of early retirement after seeing how the whole cluster fuck went down at Lecter’s. Of course the sons a bitches took the case after they'd given him the boot . The case that he'd cracked, the case that Will had helped him see with new eyes.

Seeing him in the hospital had been too much for his Bella. Only a few months after his release the sweet sound of Italian music played while he'd held her and given her the permission to let go. She'd passed shortly after that, looking more peaceful and pain free than he'd seen her in weeks.

A few months after her death he'd managed to find a teaching job at a college affiliated with the Bureau. Telling himself that Bella would’ve wanted him to continue on even though sometimes all he had was sheer stubbornness to get him out of bed in the morning. Will visited him at first when he was released from the hospital but the visits quickly faded in number until his friend was nothing but a voice on the telephone. Six months had passed since he last heard from Will. He wanted to reach out but didn’t want to push. He figured he’d already pushed enough.

Then he'd gotten a call from Zeller. "Jack, I have something you need to see."

His former colleague’s face held a stoic expression as he slid a FBI branded folder to him across the table in a local diner. Jack had opened it, examined the photos inside, and shut the folder. He had to close his eyes for a moment to collect himself before replying in as calm of a tone he could muster,“When did you get these?"

"They were sent into the bureau two months ago."

"Two months?”

"Jack, this is Interpol's jurisdiction now. They sent the files over to us as a courtesy and to get our opinion if it was him."

Jack opened the folder again and looked at the color photographs, flipping each over to glance at the case report beneath.

"Three victims have been found so far. They can't find a pattern in the way they're chosen. Nothing links these people together except for that they had a criminal record and ... uh...the..."

"Theatricality." Jack looked at photo of a of a woman’s body broken and bent over a church pew. Her arms outstretched, reaching up to the towering figure of the crucifixion at the front of the church. Lilly's blossomed from her open chest cavity and coins spilled out of her empty eye sockets to the floor.

"The placement of these killings is completely random. I mean some of the bodies were found on the same day in different countries. This one France, other Russia, then Greece. What is he doing Jack? Taunting us?"

Jack spotted their waitress coming over and quickly tucked the pictures away. As soon as she was gone Zeller started in again.

"You've got to show Will. You know it's the only way we’ll know for sure."

“I know.”

It only took a few days of staring at the folder on his kitchen counter before Jack worked up the courage to drive to Wolf Trap. Guilt gnawed at him as he drove down the quiet road leading to Will's house. His Jeep crested over a hill and he saw the lights of Will's house in the distance. When he arrived he cut the wheel for the driveway by instinct and put his car into a snowbank. He got out and looked in confusion at where he was certain the driveway should be. Instead he saw nothing but an undisturbed sheet of white snow.

Dread gripped Jack as he slowly waded through the snow towards Will's front door. He trudged up Will's front steps and peered through a window. Nothing had changed since he’d been there last. The only thing noticeably missing was the half dozen dog beds usually placed in front of the fireplace. He listened but heard nothing but the hush of the snow falling around him. He pulled the screen door open and attempted to open the front door only to find it locked.

“Will!”

He waited a moment for a reply and then slammed his shoulder into the door. After a few tries and plenty of cursing the door finally broke open, the bang resounding through an empty house.

"Will!"

Silence.

Jack took a deep breath, half expecting the sour odor of death to hit him but the air was stale and cold. He quickly made his way through the house, fearing every time he turned a corner he would find Will’s body. After checking every room twice Jack stood in the kitchen, heart hammering in his ears as he tried to figure out what the hell was going on. Nothing seemed out of place except for the layer of dust that covered every surface. Wherever Will was, he’d left everything behind. Jack barreled out the back door into the thigh-deep snow and yelled Will’s name into the night even though he knew no one would respond.

##

The deep chime of the doorbell rang throughout the house and pulled Hannibal from his thoughts. The entertainment of the feast was long over and his dinner party guests were now scattered around the large living room relaxing after a fine meal.

Bedelia looked at him with cool reassurance. "I'll get it." She wove through the guests, careful not to disturb the wine glass she’d just refilled.

Hannibal returned his attention back to the small collection of guests in front of him who were recounting news they'd heard while in Greece a few months ago. A ghastly murder had been found on a cliff overlooking the ocean. The police still had no suspects. He was familiar with the story, over the past year a series of murders had taken place across Europe. There was no connection between the victims other than the theatrical way they were displayed. The gruesome murders had made international news and it had become the hot topic at gatherings Hannibal had attended in recent months.

He pulled his focus back to conversation in time to hear one fragment of thought "... you can say it’s horrible all you want but there is an amount of beauty there. Doctor Fell, do you have any thoughts on why they pose their victims this way?"  

Hannibal let his stance relax, casually leaning against the marble table beside him. His well rehearsed response required that he maintain an air of nonchalance in regards to the killings.

“Well I ….”

The high-pitched crack of breaking glass filled the air. Although it occurred out of the room, the sound was sharp enough to disturb a number of his guests. Someone at the door had startled Bedelia to the point that she’d dropped her wine. Hannibal reached into his waistcoat pulling out a gold pocket watch to glance at the time; it was quite late for someone to be arriving. Besides, all those who had been invited were in the room with him. His mind began the intricate chess game of figuring who it was and navigating every possible move, making sure he would come out on top. The first step was to keep people out of the foyer.  

"Please stay where you are, I'll tend to it." He reassured his guests with a smile and body language that spoke of polite dominance, subconsciously subduing the crowd into believing he had control over the situation. He’d only taken a few steps to the doorway and they were already engrossed back in their conversations. His mind whirred like the dials of a lock, clicking into place as they factored in information, still trying to deduce who could’ve interrupted his evening.

He rounded the corner to the hallway leading past the kitchen into the foyer. From down the hall he could make out Bedelia white knuckling the ajar door with one hand while her other hand rested on her chest. A wine glass lay broken and forgotten on the floor behind her. Hannibal’s eyes widened, hands clenching at his sides. Despite his best efforts, his pulse rose and his breathing came slightly erratic. Bedelia’s reaction was all he needed to know exactly who was on the other side of the door. He quickly reigned in his physical tells as best he could as he approached Bedelia.

She turned to look at him, her face a pale canvas accented by red lips parted in surprise. As he reached the door she let go and stepped back. He grabbed her arm and her eyes went wide with a sharp intake of breath.

"Mind the glass Bedelia." It took more effort than it should’ve to keep his voice steady.

She turned to see her shoe inches above a large shard of glass. Her lips pressed tightly together as she nodded, putting her weight on the opposite foot so she could sidestep the mess. He released her arm as he pushed open the door with his free hand. The past two years flashed through his mind in blur of colors and sounds as he brought his eyes up to look at the figure standing bathed in the orange light of the entryway.

Will Graham’s lips shifted into a barely noticeable smile as their eyes met.

A year ago when Hannibal read about a body discovered artfully posed in an abandoned mausoleum he’d wondered about its origins. He’d even gone so far as to obtain photos of the scene from a discrete source. More bodies appeared and he’d watched in awe as the landscape of Europe became decorated with beautiful scenes from art and literature. Will’s betrayal had torn him in a way he would never admit, even to himself. He had always promised himself that should Will make his way back into his life that he would finish what he’d started in Maryland and serve him for dinner once piece at a time. However, with every new body that cropped up he felt his resolve to murder Will start to crumble.

Now looking at Will he found himself touched with the emotions that had stirred in him the first time they’d met in Jack’s office. Will had changed quite perceptibly. It wasn't just the bespoke suit and his cleanly styled appearance. His eyes took Hannibal in with a cool concentration and confidence made his breath stop for just a moment. Whatever dead skin of the former Will Graham that had clung to him in the past had been sloughed off. The person that stood in his doorway wasn’t the Will he’d left clamoring for life on his kitchen floor. It was a man who could easily pull flesh and snap bone into something otherworldly without breaking a sweat. He always knew when Will found his stride he would be something to behold. It pleased him to see he hadn’t been wrong after all.

"I'm sorry I'm late," Will said, looking at Hannibal. Then he turned to Bedelia who remained fixed to the spot where Hannibal had left her. "I didn't mean to startle you Bedelia."

"It's fine. Fine..." Her voice shook as she moved away from Hannibal. "I should get back to our guests."

"Yes. Tell them I'll be with them in a moment." Hannibal couldn’t take his eyes off Will. He heard Bedelia's heels click quickly across the hardwood floor as she retreated. He stepped back and returned the smile Will gave him.

"Won't you come in."

Will entered, careful not to step on the glass or into the puddle of red wine that was slowly making it's way towards the front door. Hannibal shut the door behind him and turned to face Will. The other man held out a wine bottle for Hannibal to inspect. “Consider it a late housewarming gift.”

Hannibal looked at the label and remembered how one victim had been posed in his private wine cellar. A half case of his most exclusive bottles of wine missing along with his tongue. He smirked at Will, clearly indicating he understood the gesture was meant to erase any doubt as to who the artist behind the exhibition of murders across Europe had been. “A rare vintage but I think my guests have opened enough bottles for the evening.”

"I really wasn't planning on _sharing_." Will's eyes looked at the corridor Bedelia had retreated to, his tone of voice indicating he meant selfishness with more than just the wine.

Hannibal took the bottle looking at it once more. His mind spun over what Will had just said as his thumb wiped away one of Will’s fingerprints on the glass. "Perhaps we can have some after the guests have left."

His beloved, who had blossomed so throughout his journey over the past two years closed the distance between them, his hand ghosting against Hannibal’s. They were close enough that Will’s scent invaded Hannibal’s nose and he couldn’t help but inhale deeply. Will smiled, genuinely, his eyes glancing at Hannibal’s lips. "I would like that." Then he retreated to a respectable distance, the warmth of his hand fading into the cool stillness of the air.

“Shall we rejoin the party?” Hannibal turned and moved towards the hallway leading back to the living room.

Will fell into step beside him and he couldn't resist resting his hand on the small of Will's back as they walked.

“What should we tell them?” Will lowered his voice so it could be drowned out by the ambient noise coming from the party.

Hannibal didn't assume to know Will's motives, not after what had happened between them. But his instinct to cut into Will as soon as he saw him again had faded into curiosity to watch the animal he'd become create art out of flesh. He wanted to nourish this creature and let him grow further under his care. The depths of his mind spoke to him of something deeper he craved from Will but it was overtaken by louder voices of his psyche. He wasn’t ready to fully realize it yet. Perhaps, with time...  

“I’ll tell them you’ve come home.”


End file.
